The Irony of It All

If our eyes are windows into our soul, what do they say about us when they’re clouded in cum? Such was my freak-out when that first happened to me (cum-in-the-eyeball, see previous post) that I went to the nearby free clinic to be tested for HIV…again…and again. Each time I would have to tell the clinic workers, who were used to working with sex workers, why I wanted to be tested. Didn’t I insist that all my so-called boyfriends wear condoms? Of course, I replied, slightly insulted (I wasn’t stupid!).

So I would have to repeat my embarrassing tale of how I got a big wad of cum in my right eye, initially blurring my vision, stinging a bit, and making me worry like hell. Since the eyeball is covered in a moist membrane (right? I couldn’t remember my high school biology specifics), wouldn’t that transmit the deadly virus just like other delicate avenues into the body?

An anus of an eye? A vagina of the visual cortex? When worried sick, think up outrageous metaphors!

“You’re funny,” the nurse said. “I always like working with girls like you. You all have such a wonderful, outlandish sense of humor.”

“You’re not making me feel better,” I said.

“Well, sweetie, I really don’t think you have to worry. I’ve never heard of HIV being contracted this way. We’ll have the test results back in a week.”